So...at the request of my rheumatologist, I'm now gluten free. Okay, it's taken me a little bit to get into it, slowly edging out the evil glutenous foods in my pantry, but it's happening. In fact, I've gone 4 days in a row now with not even a desire to eat something that is.

All this to say that I've been busy again. But now that I'm sorting out the easy stuff....it'll be on. ;)

Here's a little sampling of how my mind works at 2 in the morning. Remember, it's 2 in the morning, no one is at his best then, right?

A little before 2, I woke up from a dead sleep. Something had just whined in my ear. You know that half-awake reasoning mode a person goes into. "Well, what could have just whined in my ear? A mosquito? An elephant? Was it just a dream?" Then I switched to the taking inventory of the room mode, with my eyes still closed mind you. "Hmm..all my limbs seem to still be in the bed, pillow under my head, still have all the blankets. WonderDog next to my knee...no wait...he's not next to me. Hmm..."

I rolled over a little and realized that my nose had just run into something furry. Now, understand, I'm afraid of the dark. I do, in fact, have lights on in my house all night. (Not the main lights in a room, but small nightlights). So, to wake up to a strange noise in my ear and realize something furry is on my pillow with me.....Houston, we have a problem!

Cautiously, I reach up to touch whatever it is on my pillow. Whew! WonderDog! That's a relief, seriously. I open my eyes and we're eyeball to eyeball, and I can tell he's distressed. I start murmuring comforting words and cooing at him when he suddenly cuts his eyes toward the closet. (Yes, I know, I'm anthropomorphizing him. Deal with it.) So, I look over there.

The door's open. This is...well let's just say there will be no sleep until the damn thing is closed. But here's the deal, I closed it before I got in bed. I always do. It's my little ritual--walk the house, check the locks, open and shut the closet door. I never falter in this.

Soooo......why's it open? Let's see, the door's open, the WonderDog has plastered himself to my head, and is under some sort of distress that I'm guessing, at this hour, has nothing to do with the corned beef hash I let him taste after I had my dinner. (Ok..it could be the hash, but he's little and frankly, I'd have been gassed out of the room LOOOOONG before the two o'clock hour if it was the hash.)

By this time, I'm awake and now, rather than turn on a light and close the door, my mind is racing through the possible reasons for it's open state.

My mind flits to the old wives' tale about cats not being allowed in a baby's room because they'll steal the baby's breath. I glance at WonderDog, "Is that why you're on my pillow? To steal my breath?" Whine....I'm guessing that means "no."

I lay there pondering for a few seconds, and my mine wanders over to a faint memory of a set of Stephen King short stories made into short movies. Wish I could remember what they are. Three of them packaged together, one of them is about a cat who protects the human child in her family from a troll who tries to steal her breath.

Do you see where this is heading??

The troll, as I recall from the movie, would show up after the little girl was asleep, bedroom door closed, and the cat (THANK GOD) had snuck in without the parents knowing. There was a creak of the bedroom door and then scampering across the floor, where the troll would climb into bed and start to suck the breath right out of the child. The cat would leaps onto the bed and a terrific fight ensues. Takes a little time for the cat to not only kill the troll, but be lauded as a hero by the family.

For the record, I do not own a cat. But I am terrified of the dark. So much so that I don't sleep on one side of my queen-size bed, I sleep in the middle. My rational mind understands that there is nothing under my bed. But you never know.

So, from 2:15ish (when I make this connection) to 4:00ish, I'm lying in bed watching the closet door. And listening for scamper sounds on the wood floor. And wondering why in the hell the WonderDog has dozed back off, leaving me utterly unprotected. I am not, even for a minute, sleeping.

I finally give in. I need to sleep, but I won't sleep with that door open. I sit up, get a grumble from the WonderDog. Apparently, I am now disturbing his sleep. When did I cease to be the alpha in my own house?
"Little dog, if I should die, think only this of me....I will haunt your ass and then show the trolls where to find you."

As the alarm goes off and I reach for the bedside lamp, the WonderDog wakes up a stretches, big yawns. Then wanders over to give me a good morning kiss. As if nothing in the world has happened. Really? REALLY? Glad someone got to sleep last night.

Over at RevGal this week, Sally shared the thoughts of the newly elected British Methodist Vice President, Eunice Attwood. These were shared at the Annual Conference in the last week.

I want to be part of a church that is prayer-filled -
A church that is resourced and sustained by the Bible,
A church that can offer hope even in a credit crunch,
A church that can live well with difference and diversity.

I want to be part of a church that welcomes the wealthy, those who have power and influence -
A church that knows how to party and celebrate life,
A church that acknowledges death and speaks boldly of resurrection,
A church that doesn’t pretend to have all the answers but encourages all the questions.

I want to be part of a church that throws parties for prostitutes -
A church that welcomes those who seek asylum,
A church that longs and yearns for justice,
A church that listens to those no-one else wants to listen to.

I want to be part of a church that believes in transformation not preservation -
A church where all who are lost can be found,
A church where people can discover friendship,
A church where every person takes responsibility in sharing the good news.

I want to be part of a church whose hope is placed securely and confidently in the transforming love of God -
A church that engages faith in its communities,
A church that makes and nurtures disciples of Jesus.

A church where the story of God’s love is at the centre.
I want to be part of a church that offers outrageous grace, reckless generosity, transforming love and engaging faith.
This is God’s story Transforming Love: Engaging Faith.

My prayer is that by the power of the Spirit of God at work amongst us, it will increasingly be our story.

So, Sally asks, what kind of church do we want to be part of? What does our "dream church" do? How does it behave in the 21st century.

Well....

1. I want to worship and fellowship in a church that remembers that this is the most important thing:

But the Pharisees, when they heard that he had silenced the Sadducees, gathered themselves together. One of them, a lawyer, asked him a question, testing him. "Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the law?"

Jesus said to him, "'You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.' This is the first and great commandment. A second likewise is this, 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments."

Matthew 22:34-40

Because I see all too frequently that we forget that part about loving our neighbors, being too quick to judge instead.

2. I want to be part of a church in which I can say "Jesus is my Savior I choose to follow, but who am I to say that someone who doesn't agree with me is wrong?" without feeling like I've just dropped a bomb.

3. I want to be part of a church that isn't all feel-good and warm fuzzies. That does convict me, that does make me feel called to task when I really have stepped outside the appropriate boundaries--but does it with love and not condemnation.

4. I want to be in a church that recognizes that the most important ministry work I do rarely happens inside the church walls, and that I will choose to minister there (quietly, with minimal mention of my faith) because that's where the people who need ministering to are many times before I choose to make it to a worship service.

Oh, let me continue that thought....I want to be in a church that recognizes that the most important work ANY church or church member does is not inside the 4 walls. It's in the world.

5. I want to be in a church, in a world, that doesn't box God in. How do we forget so easily that He is the God of wonders beyond our galaxy?

Ok, so I played a little last night. In particular, I was looking for something easy easy that I can throw in the oven for a quick dinner, or can actually do in the morning before work.

First, you need to know that I used one of these white ramikins. It's roughly just the right size for one person.

The is an Eating Single version of my usual 12-egg breakfast casserole. It's the one I usually take over to church for gatherings. Feeds plenty, and is quick and yummy. There's just too much for one person.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Use non-stick cooking spray to coat the ramikin. Stir all ingredients together and pour into the ramikin. Bake for 10-15 minutes, or until eggs are set (knife inserted in center will come out clean).

**Now, you can, of course, substitute one large egg for the Eggbeaters, and your favorite meat for the Grillers. I just happen to think in terms of convenience and while not vegetarian do tend to make vegetarian choices. The Grillers are handy because you really can get one or partial servings out and not have to do anything other than seal up the bag to preserve the rest, unlike a pound of ground beef or breakfast sausage. I either have to do a lot of prep work to divide it into individual servings or cook everything at once.

This morning, at the unGodly hour of 4 a.m., I was putting out the trash. Coffee was brewing in the kitchen, sprinkles were falling on my head. A small WonderDog was shooting me dirty looks through the screen door (I'd thrown away a piece of his rawhide just minutes before).

It was completely quiet out. Just beautiful, and one of those rare moments even in my smallish town that it truly was quiet out. My mind wanders when it gets like that. Okay, that's not true, I'm A.D.D., my mind always wanders, but it gets quietly introspective at times like that. I found myself outside in the rain for a good 30 minutes. I used to do that a lot. Just let the rain wash over me, clearing my head. It wasn't a hard rain, it was just sprinkles, but it was redeeming in a big way.

A few years ago, the smallest thing sparked my imagination and would send me into a daydream, that often became a hurriedly written poem or short piece of prose, and often could be found here. And by hurriedly I mean "hurry before you lose it!" Could've been anything--the way a friend smiled at me, an unexpected flash of color, the way a word felt in my mouth. Heck, it might've just been the way the sun warmed my skin. Or that freakishly bad movie I'd watched the night before.

Somehow I got caught up in the busyness and the business of my day to day life and stopped making the leap from my head to paper. I stopped taking the time. No, not true. I took the time to put other things on paper. I've for years called myself a writer. And I am. I know the adage is that any kind of writing is still writing, even if it's not what you want to write. But honestly, when the most widely read and accepted writing I've done is the 5 steps to printing a gradebook from the computer system for my teachers, how can I possibly feel fulfilled? Especially knowing that I wrote that 4 years ago and have merely made updates as the system was upgraded.

This morning, my imagination is just whirring. Just racing. Just overwhelming me. And something inside is waking up.